


Please Avert Your Eyes

by imnotbuck



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotbuck/pseuds/imnotbuck
Summary: Steve Rogers has always been an outcast; he’s been the target of bullies for his entire life and unable to make friends because of how sickly he is. When a boy named James moves into the apartment next door to his and is put in his class, he gets a chance to start fresh with someone completely new to Red Hook. The closer they become, the more Steve starts to realize that James may not be the friend he was hoping for, but he’s the one he let in.





	Please Avert Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods from the Stucky Scary Bang for making this bang so easy for me to participate in and so well organized, you're the best. I really enjoyed writing this and I might do some more horror at some point because of it. I'm really pleased with how this turned out and I hope all of you are too!
> 
> The original prompt will be at the bottom; original prompter, I hope this is everything you wanted.
> 
> Thanks to Iah for beta-ing this so quickly, you're a lifesaver.

_ “Real love is to offer your life at the feet of another.” _ —  _ John Ajvide Lindqvist _ _ ,  _ _ Let the Right One In _

Blood was everywhere; staining the front of his shirt, his knuckles, the corner of his mouth, and his nose. It seemed as though whatever he looked at was covered in it and he was disappointed in himself for letting it get that bad. He knew he could’ve done more to stop it, could’ve tried harder, maybe even gotten one of the boys that ran away. Shame was harder to wash away than blood.

“Steve?” his mother called from the living room. 

Steve snapped back to reality and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe some of the blood away. If she saw how much he was bleeding, he would be in huge trouble — it was the third fight he’d gotten into that week, and it was only Wednesday. 

“Steve,” she whispered when she saw him. “What happened to you?”

“Just some kids from school bein’ jerks,” he replied. That was the same thing he said every time he came home battered and bloody, so she must’ve been tired of hearing it. 

“Was it at least a fair fight this time?”

“Four to one, but I had ‘em.”

She sighed heavily. 

“You can’t keep doing this honey. One day you’re going to get very hurt.” 

Deep down he knew she was right, but he could never admit that to himself. He had to believe that he could win and beat the bullies that refused to leave him alone, or else he’d continue to lose to them. If he had enough courage and determination he could make up for what he lacked in size and strength. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. 

“C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.” 

Sarah Rogers was a good woman, a great nurse, and an even better mother. She worked long hours at a small hospital and still came home with a smile on her face, despite how hard she was working. She cared for Steve whenever he was sick and patched him up after fights, and she treated him with respect and love. 

He wanted to make her proud, but it was hard when he was a target for bullies and refused to back down from a fight. If he saw anyone else being hurt he couldn’t ignore it because that would make him a coward. Sarah wasn’t a coward and neither was he.

It didn’t take long for her to clean him up, mainly because he kept still and made it easier for her. He could see how tired she was and wanted her to be able to get to bed as soon as she could - she had another long shift the next day and wouldn’t have time off until the day after, so she needed her rest badly.

“We’re going to meet the new neighbours tomorrow,” Sarah said and dabbed at the cut on Steve’s lip. He winced but didn’t move his mouth to speak. “I’ll get a pie after work and we’ll go over.”

“Neighbours?” he asked when she was finished. 

“A father and son. I don’t think they’re from around here.” 

He wasn't the biggest fan of people, so he wasn't happy about the prospect of meeting the new neighbours. 

“There'll be a new boy around here, too, so you can meet him.” 

_ Another one to bully me _ , he thought but kept it to himself. He didn't want to spoil her mood and if trying it was what would made her happy, then that's what he would do. 

“Sounds good.” 

That night was an odd one. Steve spent the entire night tossing and turning; every part of his body was aching from the fight he’d been in and there was a noise keeping him up. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was but it was coming from the other side of the wall, just loud enough for him to hear. Steve ground his teeth together and turned his back on the wall, glaring at his desk in the corner of the room.

The noise got a fraction louder and he kicked behind him, his toes making solid contact with the plaster. It stopped abruptly and he listened closely, waiting for it to start again.

The only thing he heard was a soft, almost whisper-like noise, that sounded suspiciously like someone saying  _ sorry. _

*

“Hey Rogers!” Brock yelled from across the road. Getting Brock’s attention so early in the morning meant it was going to be a very rough day; Brock was the makeshift leader of the bullies in Steve’s grade and his attention was fatal. “How's that ma of yours!” 

Steve ignored him and kept on walking. He couldn't get into a fight again so soon, especially because he had to meet his new neighbours that night. He couldn't go nursing brand new injuries on top of the one he already had or else they would definitely assume something about his family life - it wouldn't have been the first time, but with them living next door it could mean something more. 

“Don't ya hear me,  _ Steven? _ ” he sneered. “Or are ya deaf today?”

Steve didn't show any sort of reaction and kept himself moving steadily. He refused to look over at Brock or break his pace because he was strong and wouldn't rise to the bait. Brock threw something from his bag at him but even that didn't break his stride. He held his head up high and continued down the freshly shoveled path to the building. 

Truth be told, Steve actually liked school. He loved spending time in the library and in his class with Ms. Carter; he was in a  _ gifted  _ class which was somewhat smaller than a normal class but was full of the school’s best and brightest, and he felt safe there. Ms. Carter wasn't one to take nonsense from anyone and kept her students, as well as other students, in line. Steve never had a problem with her or any of the staff, it was just some of the other students that ruined things for him whenever they could.

Just as Ms. Carter started writing their schedule on the board, the principal and guidance counselor walked in. In front of them was a boy about Steve’s age; he had long brown hair that hung in his face and obscured most of it, his shoulders were hunched, his bag was trailing on the ground and his free hand was clutching the front of his jacket. He had the demeanour of someone heading towards an electric chair and he radiated discomfort.

“Good morning Ms. Carter,” Principal Stark said with a smile. 

“Good morning,” she replied. Steve would never tire of her crisp English accent.

“Today I'd like to introduce a new student; he's come to us all the way from Russia!” Principal Stark tended to treat everyone as if they were toddlers; the class was full of 14 year olds, and at that age being treated like children was the biggest insult imaginable. “Please welcome James Pierce!” 

James flinched at the sound of his own name.

“Would you like to introduce yourself, James?” Principal Stark asked. James immediately shook his head and curled in on himself the slightest bit. “Alright then, Ms. Carter. I'll leave it to you.” He and the guidance counselor left the room, shutting the door behind them. 

“Okay, James, there's a free seat beside Maria. Maria, please raise your hand.” Ms. Carter said in as friendly a voice as possible. Despite that, James still looked terrified and ready to run if he needed to.

Maria was seated two desks away from Steve to the right, so he didn't have to turn his head much to watch James make his way over to his seat. He slipped behind the desk quietly and Ms. Carter handed him a bundle of papers, a notebook, and a pen. James looked at them warily, like they could jump up and attack him if he touched them. It took a few minutes for everyone to stop watching him; he was brand new in a school that no one ever transferred to. He was an instant novelty regardless of how much he seemed desperate to disappear. 

*

By lunchtime James’ star status had died down within their class but the rest of the school had just found out, so it wasn't much better for him. He stayed behind as the rest of the class filed out, leaving him with Steve and Ms. Carter. 

Steve spent most of his lunch periods in class tending to the various plants in the room and eating his food at his desk. It was a good alternative to being forced to sit outside to eat by himself or skipping lunch altogether to sit in the library. He found that isolating himself was better than being rejected by the other students, and Ms. Carter seemed to sympathize with him and trusted him enough to allow him to stay even when she weren't there. 

Keeping to his routine, Steve grabbed the small watering can from the back of the classroom and walked out to the water fountain across the hall to fill it. When he came back he was surprised to see James carefully touching a leaf from one of the taller plants; he was looking at it like he'd never seen anything like it before. 

“James?” Ms. Carter said gently. James jerked his hand away from the plant and hunched his shoulders. “Would you like to help Steve with watering?”

James bit his lip and hesitated briefly then he nodded. 

“Steve, will you show James how? The plants are very fickle about the amount of water they need day to day,” she said lightly and James only nodded. 

“Um, James,” Steve said, his voice uncharacteristically small, “come over here, please?” 

James’s gaze lifted and settled on him, and he was instantly frozen. James’s eyes were a shade of blue that was practically pale gray and his pupils were bottomless; they were an unfathomable abyss of black that left a chill on Steve’s skin and stole his breath. James looked just as shaken up as he felt but broke out of his stupor faster. He walked over to Steve silently and kept his eyes down, much to Steve’s disappointment.

“The plants have names,” he started. “Monty’s the big one in the corner, the three small ones on the windowsill are Gabe, Dugan, and Dernier.” He led James over to Monty and showed him the markings on the watering can. “Monty’s the biggest so he gets the most, but not too much or the roots will drown.” 

He took James around the room and showed him the same process, each time waiting for James to give a little nod before continuing. Although James didn't speak he did seem to be listening intently which was great because they were off to a good start. Even if they didn't become friends, James didn't have the immediate distaste for him that most kids did. 

“Okay,” he said after they'd finished up. “That's it for ‘em. You can sit back down if you wanna.” He felt uncomfortable bossing James around, so he went back to his own seat and took out the plant schedule he kept in his notebook. He was a very goal oriented person and wanted to make sure that his job was done correctly, so he kept careful notes about it. 

“That’s good,” James said from behind him, his voice soft and nearly frightened. 

Steve flinched from how sudden it was and turned his head slightly so that he could see James properly. 

“The plants you drew,” he continued in the same soft way, “they look - look just like the real thing.”

Steve blushed at the compliment and smiled at him. “Thanks,” he replied. “Drawing is a hobby of mine.” 

“You’re talented.” 

It was the first time that someone other than his mother, Ms. Carter, or the art teacher had complimented his work and it meant a lot to him because not only had James complimented him, but those had been the first words he’d said all day and he chose Steve to hear them. 

“Do you wanna see some of my other stuff?” he asked. 

James’ excitement was instantaneous; his eyes practically lit up and he smiled, albeit small. “Sure.”

“Pull up a chair.” 

They spent the rest of their lunch period looking over Steve’s sketchbook and other doodles, Steve explaining what everything was when James looked confused. Most of his drawings were abstract but he often drew what was around him. Scenery was his favourite; he’d drawn the New York City skyline more times than he could count and various places in Red Hook, and it helped him develop his skills pretty quickly. 

Neither of them noticed when the bell rang, and Ms. Carter had to tell James to go back to his seat. The best part was that James hesitated before leaving him.

*

As Steve walked home, he felt as though someone was watching him. 

There was a tingling sensation on the back of his neck that led to a chill down his spine, and every single noise became a threat. The snow on the ground masked any footsteps behind him and he refused to turn around out of fear of what would happen if he did. He moved as fast as he could without breaking into a full run and got to his building, then unlocked the front door with shaking hands. 

Even in the elevator he couldn’t shake the feeling and stayed in one of the back corners so that he could keep an eye on everything around him. It was silly because no one else was in there with him, but he felt better when he was keeping vigilant. 

Sarah was waiting inside for him with an apple pie, ready to go visit the new neighbours. After the day’s events he'd completely forgotten about it and really didn’t want to go anyway. Judging by the look on her face, she knew that Steve had no interest in coming but wasn’t going to budge regardless. After all, Steve had to have gotten his stubbornness from somewhere. 

“Steven Grant, don’t you think of trying to back out of this,” she said and put her free hand on her hip. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Why do we have to do it? There are other people on this floor, even in this building who could!”

“Steve, that’s enough.” 

He could see that she was tired, so he swallowed the rest of his protests and put on a grim looking smile. Sarah sighed faintly. 

“Okay, Ma,” he said and nodded towards the door. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t understand why, but as soon as they stepped out the door of their apartment, he felt very uneasy. Going next door felt like a daunting task and made his stomach turn; his instincts were telling him to make a break for him but it didn’t make any sense. They were just new neighbours, he wasn’t walking into battle. 

Sarah knocked on the door once and took a step back to wait. The door whipped open and shocked the two of them. An older man with orange hair that was beginning to turn a grey-white colour was standing in the doorway, glaring at them and grimacing. “ _ What? _ ” he asked sharply. 

Sarah painted on a small smile to hide her confusion and said, “Sorry to bother you but we're your neighbours, I'm Sarah Rogers and this is my son - Steve,” she motioned to Steve but he stayed rooted to the spot. 

The man was giving off very bad energy and Steve was ready to go at him if need be.

“You must be the welcoming committee,” he sneered. “How lovely to meet you.” 

Sarah narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders; she wasn't someone to be mocked because she wouldn't just sit back and take it. 

“Now that we've gotten pleasantries aside, I'd like to give you this pie. Hopefully it sits well with you.” 

“And your son,” Steve chimed in. “He might like it.” 

“James doesn't eat sweets,” the man informed them. 

“James?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is James Pierce your son?” 

The man, now clearly identifiable as Mr. Pierce, scowled down at him. “How do you know James?” 

“He's in my class at school,” he had to stop himself from calling him his friend; he wasn't sure they'd reached that point yet or if they ever would. 

As Mr. Pierce stared at him, the uneasy feeling was creepy up on him again. There was something about that calculated look that made him stand taller but also made his fight or flight instincts kick in. Mr. Pierce was just  _ wrong  _ somehow; Steve couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong about him, but it was there. 

“James, I can feel you lurking there,” Mr. Pierce said without looking away from him. “Come and see our guests.” Glass shattered inside of the apartment and Mr. Pierce sighed heavily. “I must deal with him; he can be very reckless.” He took the pie out of Sarah’s hands and stepped back, slamming the door in their faces. 

“What a character,” Sarah said. Her voice was laced with venom. 

“James is nothing like that,” he muttered to himself and led them back to their apartment. 

*

James was waiting for him in the lobby the next morning. Steve tried to hide his surprise and waved at him, “Hey James,” he said. James held his hand up briefly then shoved it back into his pocket. 

“I - I’m sorry about Pierce,” James replied. “He’s an asshole.”

Steve snorted in response. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but yeah, he is.”

“He shouldn’t have treated you and your mother like that, I told him so.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who takes criticism very well.”

James grimaced. “He isn’t.”

He noticed that James’ face was more ashen than it was the day before; he looked sickly. “Do you wanna walk to school with me?” Steve asked. 

“I’m not going today,” James sounded saddened by it. “It’s punishment.” 

“ _ Punishment? _ ” Steve growled. His hands clenched into fists by his sides. “He's punishing you by taking away your right to an education?” he was so wound up that he didn't notice how James was flinching repeatedly and leaning away from him. “He can't do that!” 

“It's just one day,” James mumbled. “It's okay, I won't make him mad again.” 

“You shouldn't have to worry about making him mad!” 

“I - I don't usually - I'm good,” the tone of his voice had gone up with panic. “I know better.”

Finally realizing what was going on, Steve filled with horror. “I'm sorry!” he shouted and James took a step back. “Oh, I'm sorry, James I don't mean to yell - my Ma says I've got the worst of the Irish temper in generations ‘cuz I've got all kindsa fight in me from everyone. I'm always rarin’ to go.”

It took a few minutes for it to happen, but James’s entire demeanour relaxed just enough to show that he wasn't scared - of Steve, at least. 

“The pie you brought was really good, can you thank your mother for me?” 

“Sure - you didn't eat the whole thing yourself, did you?” he joked. James’s shy smile was fantastic.

“It was  _ really _ good.” 

*

That little conversation was a turning point; after that, Steve and James became friends really fast. They spent as much time together as they could during school and outside of it, carefully avoiding Mr. Pierce and any bullies that lurked around. Soon enough everyone knew that Rogers and Pierce were inseparable and no one ever tried to come between them in fear of what would happen.

Unbeknownst to Steve, most of the other students were afraid of James. They shied away from him and tried their best to avoid crossing paths with him, which meant only interacting with Steve when they had to, but with James around he didn't notice. They were so absorbed with each other that neither of them really cared about the rest of the world. 

There were some days when James seemed to disappear for no reason at all. He didn't leave his apartment, not even to see Steve, but on those days they spoke through the wall.

As it turned out their rooms were parallel to each other, so they could talk through the thin plaster very easily. They could lie facing their wall and whisper to each other for hours without either of them leaving their beds, which was pretty great considering Steve felt sick very often. It was almost the perfect arrangement - the only problem was that they couldn’t see each other, which was something they both wanted very much. 

Although they refused to acknowledge it out of fear, their feelings for each other were growing out of the confines of friendship. It was safe to say that neither of them really understood what they were feeling because they had never experienced it before, not with anyone. The feeling was brand new; when they were close together, it felt as though they were wrapped in warmth and felt an overwhelming sense of relief that neither of them could really explain. 

*

Being without James had become a rarity, but it did happen. James had gotten sick from the overly cold weather so Steve was forced to go to school by himself despite his protests. The day itself wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but he missed James more than he was willing to admit. When it came time to leave school Steve rushed out of his classroom and through the halls without thinking of anything other than James.

In his haste, he didn’t see Brock and Jack tailing him as he left the school. He also didn’t notice when a few other boys met up with Brock and Jack along the way, not until it was too late to do anything. 

They cornered him in an alley not far from his building. 

One of the other boys had circled the block and gotten in front of Steve, only to bump into him and make him stumble. “Watch where you’re going,” the boy growled and continued on his way. Steve rolled his eyes and kept walking, but in a matter of seconds he was being dragged into the alley by his arms. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” Steve shouted. “I don’t even know you, pricks!” 

“Aww, Rogers, I must’a been away too long,” Brock said as the boys holding Steve pushed him onto the ground in front of him. Jack stepped out from behind a dumpster and came to stand beside Brock.

“Even you losers have to have something better to do than this,” Steve said. “You’re wasting your time.”

“There’s more than enough time to maim a runt like you.”

Instead of being scared, Steve snorted. “Your vocabulary’s gotten better! How many brain cells died in the making of that word?” 

Jack glared at him from his post and turned to Brock, “Did you bring your knife?” 

Brock smiled and reached a hand into the pocket of his jacket, but didn’t take anything out. “Don’t jump the gun, Jack. Half the fun of the hunt is the chase.” 

“We ain’t gonna let him run, though, right?” 

“‘Course not. We’re just gonna let the guys have a turn before we do anything.”

He couldn’t bring himself to be scared. Brock couldn’t have a knife - as dumb as he was, he wouldn’t have risked bringing it to school and being caught. According to many of the rumours at school Brock had quite the record already and was sitting on a third strike, no one knew what a third strike meant but it definitely wasn’t good. There was no way he could have a knife. 

“Have at ‘im,” Brock ordered and the first punch was thrown. 

Everything after that happened in a blur. 

There were hands everywhere and the sky had darkened in a matter of seconds. Steve was dishing out as much as he was getting and aiming to hit all of his attackers at least once, but the opportunity was taken away from him with one quick shove out of the centre of the fight. The boy who shoved him ran out of the alley, followed by the two other boys who’d dragged him there in the first place. He had no idea why they’d gone running so fast, not until he took a look back at where they’d just been. 

He caught the tail end of James smashing Jack’s head against the brick wall of the building they were behind. Jack slid down to the ground in a heap and James turned on Brock, who had a switchblade in one hand and blood smeared across his face. He looked terrified but was too proud to back down from a fight, even if he knew that his chances of coming out on top were slim to none. 

“You're not gettin’ outta this you fuckin’ freak,” he said in between pants. “You ain't tough just ‘cuz you jumped us. Those other guys are sissies - you don't scare me.”

James didn't move a muscle which threw Brock off quite a bit. 

“I'm cuttin’ your little bitch a new one!” Brock growled. “You can run now, but I'll get ‘im later. I promise it'll be  _ much  _ worse later.” 

Steve was never one to back down from a fight, but he was completely frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off of the two of them, not even to look at the growing pool of Jack’s blood on the snow where he was lying. Brock continued to taunt James and show off his switchblade, promising to do ridiculous things to Steve when he saw him next; the reason for his viciousness was a complete mystery, but it was growing by the day. If it was left to fester, he would really hurt him one day.

James seemed to realize that very quickly and acted on pure instinct. He rushed at Brock and knocked him onto the ground, grabbed his knife, and drove it into his neck. Brock made a terrible gurgling noise but James was undeterred; once he started to hit him he didn't stop. There was blood everywhere, flowing from the wound in Brock’s neck and face, all over the snow, and covering James. 

Steve watched James beat Brock to death and didn't make a sound. 

It didn't take much longer than that for James to tire himself out. He got up off of Brock and turned to Steve, his eyes were wide with shock and his face was covered in blood splatter. The horror on his face was the only thing that really rattled Steve - he couldn't stand to see him so scared, he didn't deserve it. 

“He was gonna hurt you,” James whispered. “He had a knife and he was gonna -  _ Steve _ ,” he sobbed. 

“It's okay,” Steve replied calmly and stepped forward. “You're right. He was gonna hurt me and you stopped him. You saved me.” 

“He's dead.” 

“James, you saved me,” he repeated. “Brock is -  _ was  _ an asshole and he was really dangerous.” 

He looked at Steve and nodded, his eyes still wide and frightened. All he needed to do was get him to calm down and then they could think about what to do next, but he wasn't sure how to go about doing that. “Come here, please,” he said gently. 

James hesitated but ended up walking over to him. Steve took his blood covered hands in his and squeezed them. “I'm proud of you,” he told him.

James’s horrified expression turned into one of complete confusion. “You're… you're  _ proud _ ?”

“Yeah. You did what you had to do to protect me and I'm proud of you for it. Thank you.” 

“I couldn't let them hurt you,” James murmured and leaned against Steve. He was somewhat bigger than him so it was an awkward fit, but he held him up. “I could see it and it was terrible. They were gonna take you away from me and I had to stop them. You're  _ mine _ ,” he growled. 

Steve’s heart started to pound and his entire body tensed. It was true, wasn't it? He was James’ and James was his. It was an undeniable fact. 

“You're mine, too,” he said. “And I'm gonna help you figure this out.” he started to rub James’s back and James made a soft, contented noise that was eerily similar to a purr. It made him smile regardless. “We'll handle this together.” 

“We need to get Pierce,” James said against his shoulder. “He knows what to do.” 

“Has this happened before?” he asked, and was struck with an odd sort of jealousy. Had James killed for someone before? If so, who was it? Did they mean more to him than Steve did?

“Not like this,” James murmured. “I promise.” 

That quieted his jealousy almost immediately. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, then surprised himself by kissing James’s shoulder. James shuddered and clung to him like a life raft. 

“I need you to stay here while I get Pierce, okay?” As much as he didn't want anything to do with Mr. Pierce, he couldn't let James be seen covered in blood. If he made it quick he could get Mr. Pierce there before anyone saw. 

“Okay,” James agreed. “But… you'll come back?” 

“I will. I'll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Thank you, Steve,” he whispered and moved back. 

Steve turned and broke into a dead run. The running played havoc on his weak lungs but he refused to slow down. The elevator was slower than ever, so he ran out as soon as the door opened and pounded on Mr. Pierce’s door. 

“Come on, come on,” Steve muttered. “Open up!” 

“For the love of god quit it!” Mr. Pierce hissed as the door opened. Once he realized it was Steve he started to glare, but his expression shifted when he saw the blood on him. “Take me to him.”

*

James was standing in the same spot that Steve had left him in when he and Mr. Pierce got to the alley. Upon seeing Steve James’ face shone with happiness and relief, his smile was radiant despite the situation they were in. “You came back,” he said shyly. “I knew you would and you did.”

“I’m assuming these two weren’t the only ones here,” Mr. Pierce said in a bland, unimpressed voice. “How many did you let get away?”

“Three,” James replied without looking away from Steve. 

“They’ll be able to identify you if people find these bodies, James, and if they do we’ll have to move again. Was this little stunt worth the lives we have here?” 

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. 

“Was your goal to kill them?”

“The one had a knife and he was gonna use it, so I had to.” 

“What about the one who didn’t?” Mr. Pierce demanded. “Why’d you kill him?”

“They’re dead,” Steve interrupted. “What’s done is done. The problem now is getting rid of them because we can’t just stand here for a few more hours and talk things out. Someone’s gonna notice that we’re here.”

Mr. Pierce looked vaguely impressed by him which made him very uncomfortable. He didn’t want to get any of his favour, especially not for that. He didn’t know why, but the fact that James had murdered two people right in front of him wasn’t hitting home yet. The level of detachment he had from the entire situation should’ve frightened him, but it didn’t. It allowed him to keep his goal in mind: protect James. 

“We could’ve used him in Bed-Stuy,” Mr. Pierce scoffed. 

_ Bed-Stuy?  _

He didn't allow himself to ask about what happened in Bed-Stuy, simply because they didn't have time for that discussion. Mr. Pierce was obviously in no rush but he should've been. 

“James needs to get cleaned up,” he said. “I'll take him home with me and help him.” 

“Your mother can't know about this,” Mr. Pierce replied. “Be sure that she isn't there.” There was a threat underneath his words that Steve didn't like at all. 

“Just do your job,” he sneered and took James’s hand. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” James whispered, and they went.

They were both quiet on the way back to their building, and the silence stayed in between them when they made the joint decision to take the stairs instead of the elevator. They were a unit; they didn't need to communicate vocally to get their ideas across, which made things much easier. 

“Ma?” Steve called after he unlocked his door. When no one answered he brought James into the apartment, locked the door behind them, and went straight to the bathroom. 

In the fluorescent light of the bathroom, they could both see how badly the damage was; James’s face was covered in blood, as was his jacket and his hands. His pants were soaked through from the slush in the alley and there were bruises beneath his eyes. “Have you been sleeping?” Steve asked. 

James shook his head. 

“When we're done here, I need you to try to get some sleep,” he said and turned on the sink. He grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet behind the mirror and ran it under the water. “Can you take off your jacket?” 

James took it off and held it to his chest awkwardly. “The blood… it's not gonna come off of it.” 

“We've gotta throw it out.” 

“Okay,” James murmured. Steve quickly realized that James was scared, but he didn't understand why. 

“You're not in trouble,” he said after a time. “Everything's gonna be fine.” 

“Pierce is gonna punish me.” 

“I won't let him,” Steve promised. 

“He'll hurt you,” he whimpered. “I don't want him to hurt you.” 

“He won't, I won't let it happen,” Steve said. “Can you take off your shirt?” he asked. He was trying to be indifferent about asking but he was embarrassed. 

Judging by how badly James blushed, he felt the same way, but he took it off anyway. 

Steve nearly choked when he saw the scarring all over James’s chest. His left shoulder looked as if it had been sewed back on, his chest had marks from some sort of brand on it, and there were various other scars. “Did Pierce do this to you?” he said, hiding the pure rage he was feeling. 

“Some of it. In… in Russia…” James shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. 

“I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it,” he all but crooned. 

James smiled tiredly. “I want you to know - you  _ need  _ to know. But not right now, okay?” 

“Okay,” he replied and smiled back at him. “Now let's get you cleaned up.” 

Cleaning James up was less of a problem because he kept very still. They went slowly, starting with his hands. Steve was as gentle as could be, putting soap on his hands and using the cloth to scrub the blood off. Sarah would’ve approved of his process; he'd picked up his steady yet caring touch from her and learned how to nurse wounds early on in life. 

“Pierce mentioned Bed-Stuy,” James said and broke the peaceful silence. “I don't want you thinking the worst.” 

“Kinda hard not to,” he admitted. “Given the context.” 

James sighed and said, “I didn't think I'd have to tell you. I wanted it to stay in the past.” 

Steve didn't say anything. He started to wipe the blood splatter off of James’s neck. There wasn't much but every trace had to be gone.

“I… people died in Bed-Stuy because of me. Death follows me.” 

“What happened?” he allowed himself to ask.

“I haven't been normal since coming back to New York,” he said. “I've lived in a lot of places over the last few years because of it. Everywhere I go something happens -  _ I  _ happen. There's something in me that needs to.. to  _ feed _ .” 

_ Feed. _

“I've killed before,” he whispered. “By accident. I don't want to do it but part of me just has to. Sometimes I do it for good, like with Brock and Jack, but most of the time it's uncontrollable.” 

Steve’s hands started to shake despite how much he tried to stop them. The first day they'd met James’s eyes had sucked him in in a way he couldn't describe or explain; he'd seen the darkness in them and fallen headfirst into it without care. There was no way of knowing what he was getting into, but somehow he wouldn't have gone back and changed his decision. He liked James, given time he may even love him, regardless of what he'd done or who he was.

What did that make him? A good friend, or a willing participant? Either way, he would never abandon James. 

“You're not human, are you?” Steve asked, although he already knew the answer very clearly.

“I don't really know what I am.” 

He looked at James fully; he was free of blood but his eyes were bloodshot and the bruises beneath them were deeper. Instead of the regular darkness in his eyes, there was raw fear. 

“I don't think anyone really knows what they are. We're all just tryin’ to figure it out,” he joked. 

James chuckled and lowered his head, “Got that right,” he replied.

James ended up sleeping over that night, and the two of them fell asleep curled around each other protectively. Sarah came home and found them just like that; she put an extra blanket on them and when she shut the bedroom door, she made sure to leave it open a sliver. 

When darkness hit, Mr. Pierce disposed of the bodies of Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins. He kept Brock’s switchblade and a notebook from Jack’s backpack to add to his trophy collection. But his trophies weren’t just that, they were evidence.

That night had proven something to him; James didn't necessarily need him anymore.  _ Steve _ wasn’t going anywhere because he would kill to keep him. He would lose his pet project very soon and be left with nothing for all of his hard work. Over a decade of harbouring that creature and shaping him into something useful couldn’t just go to waste; if James was going to leave him, Mr. Pierce would make sure that he had nowhere to run.

*

If anyone had known that James had been anywhere near Brock and Jack, it would’ve been suspicious of him to stay home the day after their disappearances, but no one knew so he did stay home. Steve couldn’t because of his history with the two of them and because he didn’t want to talk to Sarah about staying. He avoided going anywhere near the alley where they’d died and didn’t say a word to anyone until he got to class. 

Ms. Carter was sitting behind her desk looking very rattled when he walked into the room. He normally would’ve gone up to her and tried to see what was wrong, but he couldn’t that day. On his way down the hall people had been talking about Brock and Jack while looking at him; it was public knowledge that they bullied him constantly, so it was only natural, but it was causing him an intense amount of paranoia. 

_ Were they going to ask him if he knew anything? _

_ Have they already pieced together his involvement? _

_ Did anyone see them together the day before? _

Being without James added to the stress he was under. He didn’t like being away from him and that feeling was amplified by then; he needed to know that James hadn’t run away or gotten hurt or killed somebody again. It was his job to keep him safe and if he failed there was no telling what would happen. 

Any calm that Steve had in him left when Principal Stark came into the classroom with a police officer behind him. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Principal Stark said. “Hello, Ms. Carter.”

“Good morning,” she replied quietly. Seeing her so timid was painful to him; she was usually so strong and sure of herself. 

“As many of you have heard through the grapevine, Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins haven’t been seen in almost 24 hours. Neither of them were at school yesterday and they didn’t return home either. Officer Simpson?” he asked. 

Officer Simpson looked around the classroom slowly, looking at each and every student before speaking. “If you see either of the boys, don’t approach them even if they’re alone. Call 911 immediately so that we can find them and no one else gets hurt.” 

“Do you think they’re dead?” Jessica, one of his classmates, asked. Everyone stared at her in shock except for Officer Simpson. 

“I believe that they’re scared and in need of some help. I want all of you to be on the lookout for anything suspicious and to keep yourselves safe.” 

“Were they kidnapped?” Matthew asked. 

“This is a very sensitive topic,” Principal Stark cut in. “Thank you for your time everyone, please carry on with your studies.”

Naturally no one was able to focus after that. Ms. Carter tried to keep everyone in check but she was called out of the room a few times and there was no way she could keep up with the onslaught of curiosity. The other students in Steve’s class refused to stop talking about it regardless of how many times they were asked not to. Steve felt claustrophobic; all of the questions that were being asked quickly became walls closing in around him. 

Guilt came for him in spades. Brock and Jack were terrible people who bullied him and others constantly, they were violent and dangerous, but that didn't mean they deserved to die. They were going to hurt him, but was killing them the only way they could’ve been stopped? He thought about their families and how they were never going to get closure, as well as all of the people who were going to look for them and come up empty every time. There were many missing children in Red Hook alone and resources were being wasted on two who weren't really missing. Steve knew that, and he wouldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't offer any help because it would hurt James and himself if anyone got close to the truth.

There was a dark part of him that was happy that they were dead and celebrated that fact constantly. He was determined to keep that part hidden and never allow himself to dwell on how much better he felt knowing that he would never have to see either of them ever again.

*

For the next week all Steve heard about was Brock and Jack. No matter where he went he couldn’t get away; their faces were on the news, on flyers, and at school. Everyone was looking for them and hadn’t given up hope - it was heartbreaking. 

When James eventually came back to school, Mr. Pierce began to drop him off and pick him up. He made sure to edge Steve out and pull James along every time without fail. James looked terrified to part with him but there really was nothing he could do about it. 

“I think he’s gonna make us move,” James whispered through the wall one night. 

Steve’s eyes widened. “Did he say something?”

“He’s acting like he did when we left the last place,” he said. “I saw him packing some stuff but he didn’t tell me what was going on.”

“He can’t just take you away.”

“I don’t have a choice,” James replied. “I have to go with him.”

“Why?”

“Where else can I go?” 

“With me,” he answered without pause. James went completely silent which gave Steve room to ramble. “You can stay with me and my Ma. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having you; you’re my best friend and she likes you already so she shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

A few minutes passed before James responded. “You keep saving me,” he said. “Why?”

There was no doubt that James hadn’t been given a lot of affection in his life, but it still hurt to hear him so confused about having someone willing to help him. He didn’t have a reason for doing anything that he did, he just cared for James and wanted to make things easier on him. 

“This is what we do,” he said finally. “Because you're mine and I'm yours, remember?” 

“I don't remember much about Russia,” James said. “I was young when I got sent there.” 

The abrupt change of topic was unexpected, but Steve had secretly been waiting to hear about more of James' past, so he didn't question anything.

“I lived in Brooklyn until I was 7, then my father sent me away.” 

“Mr. Pierce isn't your dad?” Steve asked.

“No,” he answered but didn't elaborate. “There was something wrong with me so I couldn't stay with my family. I was sent to Pierce and taken there for some… tests. All I remember is the pain and the dark.” 

James told him about his hazy memories and Mr. Pierce’s role in whatever had happened. Whoever he'd met in Russia had hurt him badly; they'd burned things into his skin and made him stay in darkness as much as possible. He told Steve about the nightmares he had almost every time he went to sleep and how possessive Mr. Pierce was, how he hurt him until he was worth something. 

By the time James was finished they were both crying and pressed right up against the wall. Steve ached for him; he'd suffered so much in his life and it would never end. He was forced to live as what they'd made him and to be Mr. Pierce’s prisoner for what seemed like an eternity. 

It didn't take long for Steve to realize how he was going to save James. 

“Soon enough you won't have to worry about him,” Steve promised. “I'll free you.” 

He was going to kill Mr. Pierce.

*

Their plan was simple and they would wait two days to act on it; on that day James would carry on as he normally would and go to school with Mr. Pierce while Steve stayed home. Steve would then sneak into James’s apartment and wait for Mr. Pierce to return, then stab him. James wouldn't have to be part of another murder and he'd be free of Mr. Pierce forever. 

Work had kept Sarah very busy over the past few weeks so she wasn't home for long most days. Steve found her shift schedule and planned accordingly to make sure that she wouldn't be anywhere near what was going on. The last thing he wanted was his mom finding out about what was going to happen; he didn't want her to get in trouble or to be as disappointed in him as he knew she would be. Murder was murder regardless of the circumstances, but he had no other choice. James had to be freed from Mr. Pierce or else he would never be able to live his life.

*

“Are you feeling any better sweetheart?” Sarah asked and touched Steve’s forehead. 

He shook his head and groaned. “Not really,” he said quietly.

She sighed. “Do you need me to stay home with you? I can cancel my shift if you're really feeling bad.” 

“Don't worry, Ma. I'm just gonna catch up on some sleep and maybe have some soup.” 

“You don't feel faint, do you?” the worry in her tone made him feel terrible for lying, but there was no other way. 

“Nope. I'm okay, Ma, I promise I'll be careful,” he said. That seemed to ease some of her worry, but not much of it. “I promise,” he repeated. 

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But you have to call me if you feel worse.” 

“I will.” 

“I love you,” she said and kissed his forehead. 

He smiled at her and said “I love you, too.” He hoped she would still love him after what he will have done. 

An hour later, once he made sure that James and Mr. Pierce had left, Steve snuck out of his apartment with a kitchen knife. James had managed to leave the door unlocked, so he got inside easily. He walked in and locked the door behind him, then went to stake out his hiding place. 

James’s room was the ideal place. He walked inside and was slightly disturbed by what he saw; the room was entirely white with nothing other than a bed and a small desk in the corner. The wall by James’ bed had gouge marks in it, deep enough that James’ hand should've been injured from making them. Steve walked over to the closet, opened it, and slipped inside. He normally hated small, dark spaces but all he had to do was think of how James was kept for years to centre himself. Being in that silent apartment was keeping his mind shockingly clear; there were no distractions or problems to deal with other than the one at hand, which wouldn't be a problem for much longer.

*

Mr. Pierce came back shortly after Steve had hidden in James’ closet. Steve could hear his slow steps against the carpeted floor and held his breath as they got closer. 

“Do you think I'm an idiot, Steve?” Mr. Pierce asked, surprising him. 

Despite being caught off guard, Steve didn't slip up and make a sound.

“I knew James was up to something; he isn't a smart boy, more of a brute than a brain,” Mr. Pierce continued. “When I didn't see you waiting for him like a little puppy at the gate I realized you must be in on it, too.” 

His footsteps were getting closer with each passing second, and Steve’s grip on the knife tightened with them. With every word he said Steve’s desire to kill him grew; he wanted to wipe him off of the face of the Earth and leave no trace of his evil. There was no place in the world for a man like him - Steve was doing a great service, just as James had done with Jack and Brock. No matter what happened, the world would end up a better place for them. 

“Do you think he's capable of anything more than violence?” Mr. Pierce asked. “Because he isn't. He's a creature made of hate and pain, he  _ needs _ to kill in order to live. That'll never change; sooner or later he'll rip you to shreds and consume the pieces.” 

_ I don't care,  _ Steve thought.  _ I trust him with my life. _

“He's so much worse than what you think and you have no idea. The worst part is he's claimed you,” Mr. Pierce chuckled. “You've been marked by the devil so you couldn't get away even if you wanted to. I'm sure you've noticed a change in yourself,” his voice was right outside of the closet. “That’s courtesy of  _ my boy. _ ” 

Something within him snapped. 

_ His boy?  _

James and Steve belonged to each other, no one else. 

Steve barreled out of the closet and lunged at Mr. Pierce, knocking him down and slashing him across the arm with his knife. Mr. Pierce growled and grabbed at Steve, but he scrambled away and got to his feet. He’d faced a lot of bullies in his life and let them knock him down, but not that one. Mr. Pierce wouldn't get the jump on him. 

“He's not yours, you stupid piece of shit,” Steve hissed. “He's never been yours.” 

Mr. Pierce smiled at him, all teeth and menace. “Oh, you love him! And your love can change the world.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You have a knife but you're a shrimp. You sent James away when he's the strong one and left yourself completely alone. What a foolish mistake.” 

Steve ran at him with his knife in hand and struck out, cutting a hole in his shirt. Mr. Pierce laughed and grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair, yanking it by the roots. “You must think you’re something,” he sneered. “But you’re nothing. You don’t even have a well formed plan - you were just hoping to catch me off guard.” 

_ Kill him, _ a voice inside of him chanted.  _ Kill him, kill him, kill him! _

There was so much poison in him and he hadn’t noticed it before then. The desire to kill had always been there, it just needed a solid push. James was that push, and Steve loved him for it. He’d kill for James ten times over without hesitation because he did love him. Whether it was romantic or not would be left up to time, but he did love him. 

Which was why he would have no remorse when he killed Mr. Pierce. 

Steve smiled at him and Mr. Pierce’s face changed. He looked confused and somewhat wary; it filled Steve with so much joy. He wanted him to be scared, as scared as James had been when he’d been sent away and tortured.

The dark, terrifying part of him laughed and he dove at him. A new part of him had awakened and given him strength; he knocked the man to the ground and drove his knife into his shoulder. Mr. Pierce howled in pain and Steve twisted the knife deeper. “You’ll never hurt James again,” he said with a grin. “Ever.” 

“You might be a good match for him,” Mr. Pierce said and started to struggle. “You’re twisted.”

Steve punched him in the face as hard as he could. The first hit was a relief; his entire body loosened and energy flowed through him, so he hit him again. And again, and again. Mr. Pierce spit blood at him and it spurred him on. He yanked the knife out of his shoulder and Steve smothered his scream with another punch. 

“Steve!” Sarah shouted from behind him. 

He put his knife against Mr. Pierce’s throat and turned his head. His mother was looking at him with a look of utter horror, her eyes trained on the knife he held. James stood beside her and looked at Steve with something like adoration on his face. 

“I couldn’t let you do this alone,” James said softly. “I couldn’t.” 

“Is he still alive?” Sarah asked. 

Steve looked down at Mr. Pierce; blood was gushing out of the wound on his shoulder, his nose was definitely broken, and his face was full of blood. He looked to be on the verge of passing out but he wasn’t dead. 

“I have to kill him, Ma,” Steve replied. “He’s hurt James so much and he’ll keep doing it.” 

“I know, sweetheart, James told me all about it, but you can’t do this.”

“Please leave,” Steve begged. “If you two are here when I kill him, you’re witnesses and you’ll be dragged through this.” 

“Working in a hospital gives you some options when it comes to this,” Sarah said all of a sudden. “I guess I have connections.”

“Ma?” Steve asked, bewildered. She couldn’t be into anything illegal, there was just no way. His mother had always been the picture of perfection and he held her at such a high standard. She was everything he wanted to be - she couldn’t be hiding some double life. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time a nurse used the morgue for their own purposes.” 

“Ma, no. You’ll lose your job!” It was an odd conversation to have while he was sitting on a man he was about to murder, he could admit that. But having an odd conversation was the least of his worries. 

“I want you two to leave this apartment and don’t look back. Go into ours, get cleaned up, and get packing,” she said in a rush as she nodded to herself. 

“Packing?” James asked.

“We’re going on a trip,” she replied and walked forward. She helped Steve get off of Mr. Pierce, took the knife away from him, then bent down and promptly slit his throat.

*

Sarah didn’t tell either of them what she did with Mr. Pierce’s body and they didn’t ask. Only a few days later the three of them were on a train to Maine. Once they reached Maine, they were set to board a plane straight to Ireland. They had family there that would take them in no questions asked, and Mr. Pierce had actually done something useful; he had a plethora of false identification for James, including passports. Sarah found them in a trunk with the evidence of the murders, which was handed over to the police anonymously.

James Pierce was now James Barnes and with a few forged documents, he was in the care of Sarah Rogers. He sat between Steve and Sarah on the train, holding both of their hands and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’ve never been to Ireland,” James sounded excited and it was the first time Steve had ever heard anything happy in his voice. “Can we visit some castles?”

“Sure,” Sarah said and ruffled James’s hair with her free hand. James smiled and the train began to pull out of the station. 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #15: Let The Right One In Remix - Steve is a sickly outcast who is bullied and living with his mother Sarah in Red Hook, Brooklyn. When he meets his new neighbor, the mysterious and moody James, they strike up a friendship. Initially reserved with each other, they slowly form a very close bond and it becomes apparent that James is no ordinary boy. Eventually, James shares his dark secret, which is connected to a string of bloody local murders.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr [HERE](https://fuckyfarnes.tumblr.com/)


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